Title:

Eram Quod Es, Eris Quod Sum

Author:

Se acerca el invierno

Genre:

Crime, Hurt / Comfort, Drama, bits of Humor, Family and Friendship. Later some Romance too.

Timeframe:

Present time, Gotham Nolanverse. Follows most of the trilogy canon.

Summary:

It wasn't odd to catch glimpse of Emilee Porter frequenting Gotham Police Station or Arkham Asylum. It wasn't odd to notice one of her manicured hands grasping either a book or a hot tea. It wasn't odd to spy her wandering the Narrows. It wasn't odd to even catch her with a Glock 17 lodged in her purse. But developing a silent alliance with Gotham's newest underpayed vigilante? Now, that was something not even she saw coming.

Rating:

M — Just to be sure. Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 14-16

Warnings:

This fanfiction's main characters are OC —original character—, so if you don't like romance between a canon character and an original one, then this is definitely not your story.

This fanfiction will practically have no censorship. You will find some bad language and swearing every now and again, as well as mentions and occasional descriptions of taboo subjects such as rape, sects, sex, murder and violence, among others. Not in every single paragraph, but a good amount of them in total.

Author's notes:

Welcome everyone to my story! Before starting with the reading, I'd like to let you know a few things first.

Firstly, I apologize to the readers of my other stories for starting a new one before finishing the other two, but this idea has been keeping me awake for some nights now, literally. So, I just needed to write it and finally get it out of my head!

English is not my first language, so consequently, I'm looking for a beta but still haven't found it. If anyone is interested, please, don't hesitate to send me a PM. So I apologize first hand for any grammar mistake, etc, you may find. Also, I'll try really hard to keep my main OC from being a Mary Sue; if you think something is wrong also don't doubt to tell me and I'll try to fix any mistake. If you want to say something about the story, or anything else, please, be respectful with everyone.

All opinions are very welcomed, especially constructive criticism so please, try to click the "Review" button down there before leaving :) Without further delay, I'll leave you with the story. Here it goes!


ERAM QUOD ES, ERIS QUOD SUM


"I've been a good boy, I've never really been convicted of serious crime." - Tommy Chong


PROLOGUE. The end of a beginning

Gotham City was a crime-hole, and I loved it.

Honestly. There wasn't an existing place in the world which resembled career paradise so perfectly for me. Very few people —read: absolutely no conventional citizen— would agree with me, though. I understand it. People prefer to live without hearing about robbery, rape or murder on a daily basis. I didn't. Please, don't get me wrong. I do not condone all crime Gotham is drowning into. But then again, is what I do for a living. I'm a researcher; I seek crime and analyze it. I go deep into the culprits' mind to try to see its inner work, see if they can be re-educated into what is considered a normal person. My mother warned me, I would end up being her death. Of course, she only said so half-heartedly, trying to crack a joke on one of her deepest worries. Her only daughter was —almost— obsessed with crime. Why couldn't you find fascinating other things? She repeatedly asked both myself and herself. Journalism, for example. Fashion, perhaps. Plants, even. Anything but criminals, psychopaths for that matter. I always answered her: psychos hold the most interesting of minds. And I wanted to know how those minds worked. It was kind of idealistic, but my line of thought followed the trail of felonies and crimes until a profile was sketched in my head. Afterwards I theorized, basing my hypothesis on the evidence my colleagues and I found. Then I had to flesh the criminal in cuestion out, and hope I hadn't overlook any details. Basically, I was a profiler. So far my career seemed to be developing in small steps; the first one was quitting my internship at Arkham Asylum and joining the GPD. It hadn't been easy. It was rumoured that there were more chances to get killed inside the police force by both, Gotham's scum and the own officers, than at 3.00 am in an alley with a lighted sign above your head. Not to mention I didn't fancy wearing a badge and handcuffs attached to my hip. God knows how many jokes could be made out of there. But, apparently, that's also the place I'd have more chances to actually interact with murderers and the worst of the Narrows. That's, them being properly concious and not drugged up to their eyeballs as in Arkham.

So, one day I left my position inside the dilapidated cubicle I was supposed to call office within the Asylum and went off to become the new cop in the city... Yep, not so easy. The physical part was a royal pain, literally. It took me about a year to get fit enough to pass the tryouts. The rope climbing was serious stuff... At the second time, I managed to get into the police force as officer Emilee Porter... Yep, my criminal psychology major and all that jazz had been profusely ignored regarding my new position at the GPD. At that time I honestly thought it was the dumbest thing ever; if I already had the qualification, then why not give me a rank according to my studies? It seemed fair enough, and that 'equality' policy at the moment sounded like bullshit if you asked me. You can imagine then, my first cases were way different from what I had hoped to get my hands into. I still remember my first case ever as an official cop; a burglary committed by a sixteen-year-old lad. At first sight, not much to analyze there. The boy wanted bucks to buy food, drugs and maybe a life more worthy. Yet, I remember the accusation in his eyes as I watched him sitting in the interrogation room, telling me I was to be blamed for the current situation he was in... at least partially. Considering I had insisted on calling the prosecutor of minors, I guess it was fair. But his eyes, his attitude... Everything about him made me fully realize that there was more to the crime world than just mastermind killers. The world wasn't a great mystery novel, nor an action movie; I had always been aware of that much, but living things first hand always gives you a better view of the picture. That's also why I understood the reasons for naming me as another officer; my inexperience was painfully obvious. However, since then on, I took my new position much more seriously, venturing out of the station and my office. Now I wanted to see the social issues these youngsters were experiencing, try to help them. And I found out I actually loved my job, even if not everything were perks. Now, two years later, I was proud to say I had made a difference. At least I was totally convinced I had in one girl's life. It was less than a year ago, but I still could feel the same relief and tingle in my wrists. Nevermind, it was also the moment I dumped Hugh Morgan, the same prosecutor who took charge of the burglar boy. Although I wouldn't say 'dump' is the right choice of words. We didn't have a typical relationship whatsoever. No, we were both more practical; instead we were friends with benefits, if you know what I mean. That's why I find it so weird that right now I was safely wrapped in his arms. I blinked a couple of times. My father and his new wife were there too. Actually, more people than I ever imagined had shown up. Among the crowd were old friends that shed sincere tears, distant relatives who showed up out of mere courtesy and even some workmates from the Gotham Times.

The priest had been talking, yet I had heard no sound. Now he had closed his Bible and was keeping silence as the coffin got lowered into the the tomb. I began to regain physical conciousness of my body. My french-manicured hands had been gripping Hugh's suit jacket so forcefully that I was surprised he hadn't moved an inch. One of his strong, tanned hands was rubbing soothing circles on the small of my back, the other one was caressing gently my long, blonde locks. His half-shaved chin had been comfortably set atop my head, until I began to move out of his embrace. With a quick move of my hand, I brushed aside the tears clinged to my lower lids and cheeks. Even if it was too late for it, I didn't want to be seen crying. Hugh gave me space, but remained by my right side with his open palm still placed on my back. I could feel his heat through the fabric of my pitch black dress. My best friend, Dr. Carrie Watson, as well as her brother were by my other side too. Otherwise, no more people close to me had come. I had wanted it that way. Carrie, God bless her, silently wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Even though I didn't return her one-side hug, I allowed myself to be pulled close to her. The coffin finally disappeared of sight, and the gravediggers proceeded to cover the tomb. One by one, each visitor left hesitantly the cemetery. Some approached me again to communicate me, once more, their condolences. I merely nodded, pressing my chapped lips in a thin line. I recognized Erica, a colleague of my mother. She was a short woman with a lovely smile and a brunette, pixie haircut. Today, however, she didn't have a smile to offer me; instead her dark eyes were shining due to the restrained tears, much like my own. She took both of my hands in hers, whereas her wife stood a couple of steps behind, trying to give us some privacy.

"I'm really sorry, Emilee. Alice was such a beautiful person." I breathed in sharply, blinking a few times.

"Yes." I said; my voice, usually more high-pitched than I'd normally admit, now sounded hoarse, as if I hadn't drunk water for days. I didn't dare to add anything else. I wanted to thank her, but I dreaded that if I talked any further I would find myself crying again. Thankfully she just nodded and, giving my cold hands a last squeeze, she left.

Finally, only six people remained. My father and his wife approached us. Today, Thomas Porter had decided to wear a more casual outfit, opting for a black Michael Kors jacket and white shirt, no tie though. His recent second wife, Georgine Habdoy, had chosen black too, in particular a Prada dress which —surprisingly— withheld any display of her clevage. My father had dark circles underneath his eyelids and looked as if he had aged a decade all of sudden. An awkward silence fell upon us, until my stepmother broke it tentatively. "I'm so sorry Emilee..." I directed my blue gaze towards hers. She was pretty, blonde too although unlike me, dyed. She breathed in, uncomfortable. Good. My father then took the next line.

"Can we talk alone, Emi?" I bit my tongue to not snap at him and dryly nodded. Carrie dropped her arm from my shoulders and Hugh took a step back. We walked away from the rest, not sparing a glance to each other. "Honey," I mentally cringed, "I know we don't have a... strong bond anymore, but I want you to know that I'm here for anything you need." He stopped walking, and I had no option but to mirror him. I faced him, trying not to cross my arms. He was taller than me even with my stilettos on.

"I know." I simply said. And I did know that... He was my father after all. Even if when I was sixteen he screwed the bimbo who had been hanging today from his arm, while my mother was helping me get over my first serious crush or my homework, I knew. I didn't need him, but I knew he would be there for me nonetheless. He wasn't a faithful partner, a terrible husband indeed, but an okay father. Probably a good one had I let him in. Not knowing what else to say, I observed how his left cheek sunk as he bit it. Hesitantly, he raised his right arm and, almost as if he was afraid of scaring me away, softly ran a finger down the side of face. My jaw tensed slightly, but otherwise I didn't move a muscle. He dropped his arm.

I cleared my throat. "It's getting late," Big fat lie. "I better go home."

He nodded. I could see the remorse radiating from each pore of his skin and every gesture he made. But, as always, nothing happened. No more words, no physical contact. I'd rather have it that way. At least today. One day I would forgive him, I was sure of that, but not today. Not when I had just seen my mother being buried. I swallowed before speaking. "Take care." I reluctantly said, bidding him farewell. He nodded twice.

"You too, hon." I took a deep breath and, after sparing him one last glance, I swiftly turned around, my Louboutins clicking against the stones as I strode down the path, towards the gates. I got into my car, holding tightly the wheel with both of my hands. The hole in my chest was open again, and tears were now falling from my eyes. I sobbed once, twice maybe, before getting back control over my body. The pain would never go away, but it would get easier with time. Drying my face with a tissue, I took my purse from the passenger seat and fished my phone out.

"I've already gone, sorry. E" I texted Carrie and Hugh. Afterwards, I threw the device back inside my purse and turn on the radio. Once I found Sky. FM Classic Rock I turned the volume wheel so loud that The Police could be heard from within a thousand miles of distance. I sped up the car and drove off.


A knock echoed through my office, making me look up from the file I was checking. "Come in." I called. The door opened obediently and through it stepped none other than Sergeant Jim Gordon. Guess you could say he's my boss. His kind blue eyes focused on my appearance, going from my chin to end up on my eyes. It seemed like he hadn't noticed anything out of place; my usual makeup was on, my eyes weren't weepy anymore and my paleness was now its normal shade. He adjusted his glasses a little before closing the door smoothly.

"How are you, Emilee?" He asked, taking some steps towards my desk. I blinked before allowing my facade to fall ever so slightly. Jim Gordon was one of the very few people I allowed to take a peek beneath my mask. This meeting didn't surprise me; in fact, I was almost shocked that he hadn't come to me before. Today I had just gone back to the station, after two extra days of mourning aside from the three usual days given to every officer in case of a relative's passing. It was courtesy of Gordon's insistence. I wasn't feeling well; this morning I had skipped breakfast but I didn't want to stay at home any longer. There I had no work to do, nothing to make myself busy. The only distraction I got had been a one night stand I'd asked out of Hugh. He had agreed without complaint. I left the paper I was holding on top of the pile that sat on my desk and easily rested my arms on the armrests of the rigid office chair.

"Better." I answered truthfully. I wasn't so devasted anymore but, like I said, I wasn't feeling well. Gordon took a seat in front of me.

"Is that true?" He asked me paternally, arching an eyebrow. I smirked sadly, probably plasting a grimace instead of a convincing half-smile on my face.

"Partially..." I told him, averting my eyes towards one of the windows behind him. I gazed back at him. "It will take time, but I'll be fine."

He nodded, "I don't doubt it... I'm really sorry for your loss, Em. You know that you have my permission to get a day off if you need it."

I pursed my lips. "That won't be necessary, I've already delayed enough work."

He sighed. "Emilee, I know you're a psychologist, so you should know that avoiding the problem won't make it disappear."

I raised my chin. "I'm not avoiding anything, nor anybody."

"I'm just saying, loading yourself with paperwork won't be productive to either your health or your work." He scolded me gently after a brief pause. I took a deep breath before sighing.

"What should I do then?" I asked, "Spend my time in other psychologist's divan? My mother died five days ago of a disease. There are far worse things happening in Gotham and deaths a triple more atrocious. I refuse to wallow in self-pity." I told him determinatedly. He leaned a little back in the chair, taking a deep breath of his own while his darker eyes scrutinized me once more. I swallowed thickly. "I truly appreciate your concern, Gordon. Really." I added, softening my gaze, "But I'm not as fragile and Barbie-ish as I look... I want to be back in the field."

After a moment of silence, he stood up and marched towards the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, turning to look at me. "If you want to go back to the field, then you need to get out of this office. Reed and Flass are taking patrol around the Narrows in ten minutes." With that and a minuscule lift of his lips' right corner, he left.


Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight, any of its original characters, its plot, etc. I get no benefits while writing this fanfiction. Any similarity you may find with another fanfic it's just pure coincidence, since I've read lots of them and have got some ideas from them and/or their respective authors.

Any description and mention of monuments, art, organisations, etc, recognisable is truthful and has tried to be reproduced as accurately as possible.

However, I do own Emilee Porter, Carrie Watson, and any other OC which has appeared or will appear in this story.


A.N/: I will only post once the disclaimer above this author's note. So that's all for now, I hope you enjoyed your reading!

Good, bad, awful, amazing...? It's just a little teaser, but as said before, all opinions are welcomed, so don't forget to review, please!

Until next time.

~Se acerca el invierno